


Help Me Remember

by Monsieur_Grenouille



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Little to no smut, M A N I A era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23323588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille
Summary: Patrick hurt Pete’s feelings a while back, but he doesn’t remember it
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 10





	Help Me Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Based very loosely on a true story. Twice. 
> 
> Apparently back in sixth grade I kissed my best friend in a Starbucks parking lot. I don’t know how it happened; I just opened my eyes and he was... there. I kinda went with it because “being young and gay is romantic and depressing,” but I wasn’t expecting him to text me five months later and say, _Hey, can we talk about the time at Starbucks?_ I kept trying to tell him that I didn’t want to talk about it, but I did end up talking about it at some point. We had a summer thing that year. 
> 
> The second time was at camp. Considering how awesome it was and how much I think about this, it’s hard to hold up the “we don’t talk about camp” deal. I still kiss him on the forehead when I say goodbye to him. Bottom line (no pun intended), make friends so you can kiss them and be awkward about it in the future.

Walking off stage, Patrick kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to talk. Not that anything happened onstage, he was just feeling down. And when he felt down, he didn’t ever feel like talking. Sometimes he wanted to, but it felt physically impossible. He went straight to the tour bus after getting changed. He wanted to be alone for a while, but then he wanted someone to come in and ask how he was doing. They way he felt when he was depressed... it’s complicated 

Patrick laid down on the couch and curled into himself, reaching blindly for a decorative pillow. He clutched the pillow to his middle, spooning it like a person. He closed his eyes and tried to think happy thoughts. _Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. You had a good show tonight; people really liked “I Don’t Care.” They always do, especially when you do that growl thing._ He smiled a little to himself. It was Pete who suggested that he growl during shows. 

“ _Considering who you are and what you normally act like, people won’t know what hit them when you shout like an animal during this song. Besides, I like it._ ” Pete had nuzzled up to him in the studio after he said that. Patrick had backed away from it since it made him uncomfortable, but now he wished Pete would still do that. 

The only reason Pete stopped being over-affectionate was because Patrick told him to. “ _Pete, I’m married. And... I know you are, too. Does your wife know how much you love me? Does she know that you stare at me onstage, whispering in my ear as I sing? And when we go offstage, you do even more than you do onstage. I ask you why you do this, and you say it’s for the fans. There are no fans in the studio. There are no fans in my house. Not in the tour van, or in the hotel rooms, or in a dressing room. I can’t stand it. Stop loving me as more than a friend._ ” 

But that was before Patrick loved him back. Now Patrick felt like he needed Pete more than ever. He needed Pete’s arms around him. He needed Pete’s chest pressed against his back as they fell in love together, whispering things only they could understand. He needed to trace his fingers around the black ink of Pete’s arms, neck, and lower chest. That depended heavily on whether he could touch the bat-heart tattoo or not. He wanted to. He wanted to do everything he could possibly do to make Pete fall back in love with him. 

It would take a million years, probably. Pete kept his distance ever since Patrick yelled at him for being nice. Maybe it was even more enforced, since Patrick was getting old. Old and fat. Only one of those two was new. “When did I get so old? Why am I so fat?” He thought aloud, groaning as he buried his head in his hands. 

Pete was leaning on the doorframe of the bus, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll tell you when you get old. Try being forty. And as for the ‘fat’ part... you’ve never looked better. I swear there’s a new twinkle in your eye every time I see you.” He smiled bashfully. 

Patrick couldn’t stop the words from slipping from his lips. “Come closer and you’ll see more.” His eyes widened and he covered his mouth. “Ohmygod,” he gasped, “I didn’t just—“ 

“Yes you did, sweetheart, and I heard you all too well.” Pete walked over to the couch, sitting carefully next to him. The van door shut with a click. Patrick reached up and closed the curtains. “Feeling dangerous, huh?” Pete teased him, nodding to the curtains. Patrick blushed. 

“N-Not too dangerous, but I do want to let you know that I regret that one thing I told you during Folie. I... I like it when you touch me. Not like that— well, _yes,_ like that, but not as bad as it sounds. Pete, please stop looking at me like that. I’m trying to talk to you but you keep finding these dirty loopholes and it’s driving me up the wall.” 

Pete bit his lip. “I’ll drive you up the wall anytime, Patrick. All you have to do is ask,” he smiled innocently. Patrick took one look into his eyes and fell apart. He leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, placing his hand on the side of Pete’s face.

”I’ve sorry,” he whispered into Pete’s ear. 

Pete shivered, “Say it in French and I'll forgive you, baby.” He flicked his fingers to fidget, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back. “Talk to me. I’m so into you right now.”

Patrick didn’t know what to do. He could bring up the whole ‘you’re married’ topic, or at least set up some boundaries. He could walk away because he’s also married and the dreams he’s had about Pete were just fantasies. However, Elisa keeps telling him that he shivers and moans Pete’s name in his sleep. Should he tell Pete about that? “I-I romantically scream your name in my sleep,” he stuttered, “My wife hates it. But honestly?” He tilted his head and connected their open mouths, tangling their tongues fluidly. Pete swore quietly, coaxing the singer into his lap. 

“We’re on tour, Love. Do whatever you feel. I’ll support you. Just... just do it. Please. Meagan barely even kisses me anymore.” Pete gave him wide puppy eyes and trailed his finger down Patrick’s denim jacket. “Okay, I lied, she kisses me; she’s a really good wife and I’m trying my best at being a father. But please, please, do something.” He gave up, submitting to Patrick without being told to. Good boy.

Patrick smiled. He kept kissing Pete (since that was all he wanted to do) and teased him. “What do you _want_ me to do, Petey?” 

“Anything.” 

“Even... nothing? Nothing is something is anything.” 

“You got us into this mess, Patrick, I at least expect you to do something beautiful before tearing me out of the mess and leaving me to forget any of it happened. But I will remember it, and this memory is why I won’t be able to stop staring at you onstage. You’ll forget loving me, you’ll forget wanting me, you’ll forget that I ever got this close to you. And after this one night thing, I stick around. I figure that since you put your entire heart, soul, and drop dead gorgeous hips into this one night, you had feelings for me. But you don’t and the next morning you act confused when you see me lying next to you. I try to remind you, but then you lash out at me and tell me to grow up. You’ll forget how many times I told you ‘please don’t leave me,’ and then four years later you say you want to leave me for four _more_ years, and I’m a mess the whole time. And during that time, you become the most confident you’ve ever been. You release two albums that sound _amazing_ , but I don’t have the self esteem to tell you that. Then we meet again, and you don’t... we weren’t... you forgot about me. Please make sure neither of us forget this.” 

Patrick stared wordlessly at him. He didn’t know what Pete was talking about. “I must’ve been drunk the first time.” 

“We both were. You just had half the tolerance and twice as much alcohol.” 

“Sounds like me from a while back. I’m sorry, Pete. I remember waking up and seeing you, but I really wish I could remember how you felt during, well, that.” Patrick straddled him and leaned their foreheads together. He kissed him one last time before flipping them around so Pete was hovering over him. “Help me remember.”

**Author's Note:**

> Clean comments!


End file.
